


The Dark Figure

by Slushy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Dark Stiles, Drama, Hurt, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Manipulative Theo, Multi, My First Fanfic, Not Beta Read, Oblivious Scott, Oh My God, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:06:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8211235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slushy/pseuds/Slushy
Summary: Stiles re-appears after having been missing for almost a year.





	1. Chapter 1

The doorbell rings. Scott puts down his fork from his already nearly empty plate of food.

"I'll go get it." he says through a mouthful of food. John sighs.

"No, sit, it's probably just Parrish. He's always working these days." John says pushing back his chair.

"Scott, mind your manners." Melissa chides in an endearing disgust. Scott shrugs, shooting her one of his famous smiles and digs back in to his meal. He drops his utensil, the fork clattering against his plate. "Scott-" Melissa starts exasperatedly but then stops. "What's wrong?" she asks, dread in her voice. Scott gets up and rushes out of the room. Melissa follows, grabbing a gun hidden in a drawer. They enter the hallway just in time to see John falling to the ground with a person in his arms.

"Stiles?" John asks the unconscious man in disbelief. Melissa sees the mess the man is in and immediately gets in to work mode. She puts down the gun on the entrance table and kneels beside the man and John.

"Scott, get the kit in the bathroom." Melissa orders. She goes to grab the man's wrist to check his pulse but stops. His wrists are scarred and bloody. She quickly places a few fingers on the man's neck and counts under her breath. His pulse is steady if not a bit erratic. She pulls back her fingers, her hands shaking.

"Is this real? Is this my son? Is this my baby boy?" John says, gripping the man in his arms tightly, rocking back and forth. He looks up at Melissa. Melissa looks at the boy's face and hesitates. She feels her throat get blocked. "Melissa?" John's voice breaks her out of her own shock. In her own name she hears the hope and fear she herself is feeling.

"It's him. It's Stiles."


	2. Chapter 2

"Let's move him inside." Melissa says. She backs up and Scott takes her place. "John, it might be a good idea to call Deaton." Melissa says before John can protest and pick up Stiles himself. Instead he stiffly nods and pulls out his cellphone from his back pocket. Melissa gives the phone a stern look but refrains from commenting. So much for not bringing work to the dinner table. She grabs the First-Aid kit Scott dropped on the floor and heads upstairs.

Deaton arrives less than ten minutes later and most of the pack has shown up or are on their way over already. Very quickly the small living room is holding a group of tense werewolves, a banshee, a hunter and a very worried Sheriff. Nobody says anything after their initial greetings, simply waiting for either Deaton or Melissa to come down. Almost an hour passes before both make their way down the stairs.

"Thank you, Dr. Deaton, I will see you tomorrow." Melissa says.

"Of course, if anything comes up, you have my number." He nods a goodbye before leaving. John stands up, watching Melissa. Melissa turns around, glancing over the very full room before her eyes land on John's.

"He is injured but he's going to be okay. He's asleep right now but we cleaned him up if you want to go see him." John nods and quickly goes up to her.

"Thank you." John squeezes Melissa's shoulder before he's taking two steps at a time on his way upstairs.

"How bad is he hurt?" Scott asks, concern and guilt showing on his face and through his voice. Stiles is his best friend. His pack. This is his fault. He was not there for him when he needed him most.

"He's got a few broken ribs, a broken arm, a sprained ankle and some superficial wounds. The ribs are old wounds but they seem to be healing okay. Since I am sure you will all want to see him, I need to warn you. He has a lot of scars." Melissa says softly.

"But it is really him?" Erica asks what everybody is thinking.

"Yes, it really is Stiles. He is home." Melissa offers a tired smile at the room.

"What kind of scars?" Chris Argent asks, wanting to determine any supernatural connection with Stiles disappearance. Melissa's smile falters.

"I-Just, a lot" Steady, reliable Melissa stumbles over her words.

"What is it?" Lydia asks, noticing how both Scott and Derek have tensed.

"He's awake." Scott says.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles opens his eyes and sees his dad sitting on his old desk chair, head in his hands. He looks around his old bedroom. It is still the same as he left it. Stiles notices the strange lack of pain and a faint fuzzy feeling in the back of his head. A jolt of anger goes through him. He does not like being incapacitated by a drug. At least his arm is re-set at a proper angle.

"Hi Dad," Stiles works out through what feels like cotton in his mouth. John looks up at his son. Stiles sits up awkwardly as John pulls him in to a hug.

"Thank you. Thank you for being alive." John says before letting go after a long moment.

"I beat the odds of forty-eight hours times by like a hundred. Think there's a genius world record for that? Or at least a Beacon Hills World Record? Ours would be much more interesting to read than the regular civilian version. Imagine the possibilities. You've been staying away from the curly fries while I was gone, right? Been sticking with your lean meats and veggies? I swear if I find a package of bacon in that fridge you will be eating turkey burgers and carrots for the rest of the month." Stiles blabbers, his stomach growling at the mention of curly fries. John smiles.

"I just had my missing son pass out on my welcome mat, give me a little bit before bringing up any carrot talk now will you," John says.

"Is Scott here?" Stiles asks, honestly curious.

"Everybody is here Stiles."

"Oh, an entire welcoming committee, I'm honored. I guess I should go show my handsome mug then." And my scars, Stiles thinks. He throws back the blanket somebody covered him with and plants his feet on the ground. He hears a sharp intake of breath and looks up at his dad's pale face.

"What's-Oh," Stiles follows John's eyes to his own chest. He's not wearing a shirt only a pair of boxers. "Pretty ugly, huh?"

"Not that, just-oh god, Stiles," John says and does his best not to cry at the sight, he's a grown man for Pete's sake and he needs to be strong for his son.

"I may not be a Batman anymore but I think I could still pull off an Inigo Montoya or an Oliver Queen," Stiles says but John doesn't reply. "I guess I should dress up for my welcoming party. Stiles stands up, fighting a bout of dizziness.

"Stiles, sit down, I'll grab your clothes. Forget bacon, you are the one who is going to give me a heart attack." John says, spurring in to motion. He goes to his sonâ€™s dresser and pulls out a baggy pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Stiles eyes the clothes his dad holds out for him skeptically.

"Uh, dad?"

"What?"

"I had this thing happen while I was gone..." Stiles starts. John tenses.

"You can tell me Stiles. I'm here for you."

"...called a growth spurt." Stiles clears his throat. Confusion mars John's face. Then he notices Stiles looking at the clothes.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I mean Peter Parker's first Spidey outfit was too small for him and he still managed to get it on but even he realized that it wasn't going to work in the long run and I figure, since you picked those out you were aiming for comfy clothes so, uh, kind of against the point?"

"Oh, for crying out-Scott!" John says exasperatedly. He turns around and put the clothes back in to the dresser. "I'm going to go get you something to eat." John leaves the room. A few minutes later Scott walks in holding his own pile of clothes. Stiles stands up, stifling the instincts that tell him to either run or attack. He stands stiffly, watching his old friend. Scott looks sick with guilt as he takes in Stiles appearance.

"So, are you going to stand there all day admiring my beauty or...?" Stiles says like the smart-ass he knows he is. Scott moves forward but stops when he hears Stiles heartbeat and notices him flinch. Stiles curses inwardly at himself when he sees the beaten puppy look on Scott's face. It would be fine if Stiles meant to put it there but he did not. The old Stiles would have no problem giving his best friend a big old man-hug but the new Stiles...

"Here, you can wear these," Scott says looking down at his feet as he places the clothes at the end of the bed and backs up. "I-I'm sorry," Scott says before he practically runs out of the room.

''Well, uh, not exactly what I imagined would happen," Stiles mutters to himself under his breath. He looks at the pile of clothes with a sigh before grabbing them.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles reaches the bottom of the staircase in clothes that are two sizes too big. If anything, they are at least more comfortable than his old clothes would be. He takes a deep breath before turning to face the room. He forces himself to not feel anything as he looks at the familiar faces he grew up around, suddenly feeling insecure as everybody stares back at him.

"Stiles," a shrill voice says before flawless pale arms squeeze Stiles tightly. Stiles is overtaken by strawberry blonde curls and the smell of coconuts. He tentatively and gently hugs her back.

"Lydia, my Goddess," he says and feels her laugh or sob, he is not sure which. She keeps her face hidden nonetheless for another moment before letting him go.

"I missed you, you idiot. I have been stuck with this lot for company while you were gone." she says gesturing at the group. Stiles looks around at them.

"Erica, Boyd, Scott, Isaac, Derek Mr. Argent, Melissa, wow, even Peter. No Theo?" Stiles asks.

"He's out of town. He had a family thing but he will be back tomorrow." Erica says before bouncing up to Stiles and planting a chaste kiss on his lips with a mischievous smile.

"Woah, not that I don't appreciate it, because I do, obviously, but I don't think your boyfriend is okay with this?" Stiles says with a raised eyebrow.

"My boyfriend doesn't exist so he would have no say on where my lips land." she says. Stiles looks over at Boyd to see his eyes tighten but otherwise Boyd does nothing.

"Huh, guess I have some catching up to do." Stiles arm tightens around Lydia as a dizzy spell hits him.

"Stiles, are you okay?" Lydia asks in alarm.

"Mm-hmm, totally fine." Stiles lies. He can almost feel Lydia's eyes roll at him even though he can't see her face.

"Of course, you are. We are going to move you to the couch, okay?" she says, concern laced through her voice. Erica gets on Stiles other side they lead him over to the couch.

"Oh, Melissa, as good as this drug is, I think I'll pass next time."

"Sorry, it will wear off after you get some sleep. How are you feeling?" Melissa asks, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of Stiles. She gently places a hand on his fore head. Stiles closes his eyes, comforted by her cool touch.

"Better. No more drugs though, okay?" he says. Her hand leaves from his forehead. Stiles sighs.

"You are doing really good, we shouldn't need to give you any more." Melissa says. Stiles opens his eyes. John walks in to the room with an oversized sandwich. Melissa moves aside as John puts the plate of turkey deliciousness down in front of Stiles. He looks at the girls next to his son with his own raised eyebrow.

"Looking good, son," he says.

"Always." Stiles says with a wink before grabbing the sandwich and taking a huge bite. He has not eaten for days so the smell and taste hit him hard and fast but not fast enough.

"Slow down there, tiger, the sandwich isn't going anywhere." Erica teases in a half-joking tone. Stiles nods but does not stop. The sandwich is gone way too fast. Somebody hands him a glass of water which he also finishes off. He just barely finishes swallowing the last drop of water before he is interrupted.

"Where were you the last eleven months?" Chris asks, getting to the point of what everybody wants to hear. Stiles leans back, muscles tensing and appetite gone.

"He just got back, do we really need to-" Erica starts, throwing glares at the aging hunter.

"It's fine. Might as well get this over with." Stiles says. "I was kidnapped by a werewolf pack."

"Which pack?" Derek asks gruffly. Stiles heartbeat spikes, the last time he heard that voice...he swallows and hopes his increased heartbeat is misunderstood appropriately by all the werewolves in the room who have very likely heard it change in tempo.

"The Alpha Pack." Stiles says and stops himself from saying anything else, waiting for this to sink in.

"The Alpha Pack is a myth," Peter comments, his regular bored expression replaced with mild interest as he joins the conversation.

"It's impossible, isn't it? A pack can only have one alpha, any alpha who joins a pack loses their spark." Isaac asks, thinking out loud, his arms crossed in front of him. Scott and Derek nod at Isaac's statement. Automatic irritation lights up in Stiles chest, making the barely contained anger that he has been holding in that much harder to manage.

"Ding, ding, points for goldilocks," Peter says with a snarky and totally fake grin. "As I said, a myth."

"And you are not a werewolf, Lydia isn't a banshee, and I don't have fucking 20/20 vision and didn't spend months getting tortured by them. If you don't want to hear the answer because it doesn't fucking suit you than you can get the fuck out of here! Do you honestly think that after over eleven months of this?" Stiles pulls up his shirt to show off his scarred chest. He drops the shirt back down. At some point he's stood up. "that I would not recognize who or what did this to me? Listen to my fucking heartbeat, listen! Am I lying to you right now?" Stiles finishes, panting in anger. The werewolves in the room look sick despite not actually being able to get sick.

"Son, we believe you," John says. Stiles gives his father a sharp nod before falling back to sit on the couch. "How many are in this Alpha pack?"

"Five. There are five of them." Stiles says. John grabs a pad of paper off the coffee table and a pen.

"Can you describe them?" he asks. Stiles nods.

"The leader is an older man. He must be in his late fifties or sixties. He is blind but he can see just fine when he wolfs out. His name is Deucalion. Next are the twins. They are around our age, maybe a year or two older, light brown hair and brown eyes. I don't know how but they can somehow become some kind of mega wolf and merge together when they alpha out. Their names were Ethan and Aiden. Then there is Kali. She is the only girl and second in command. She has a hate-on for shoes and has long dark brown hair. She is the most vicious and vindictive out of all of them, totally bat-shit crazy. The fifth one didn't talk much. His name is Ennis and he's tall and a body builder or something. He makes Derek look like a junior." Stiles says.

"Where did they keep you?" John asks professionally as if he was interviewing somebody at work rather than his own son.

"All over, I spent a lot of time in basements," Isaac flinches and Stiles feels a twinge of sympathy. He understands now more than ever what Isaac went through. "bathrooms, trunks, closets, whatever was convenient for them. We moved around a lot."

"Why did they take you?" John ask, terse voice betraying how thin his control is.

"Well, at first I think it was for the Nogitsune. They caught wind of what happened and were interested in having a piece of that, but clearly they were too late."

"Then what?" Chris asks. Stiles looks at the hunter in confusion, not understanding the question.

"You said at first, afterwards, why did they keep you and not let you go?" John asks.

"...They enjoyed having me around. I was their human toy that they could play their sick sadistic games on as much as they wanted."

"How did you escape?"

"I'm Stiles. I did what I do best. I made a plan. It worked. Now I'm here. Now, this Stiles is tired. If this welcoming party-turned-interrogation is over I am going to go and enjoy my very lonely bed. If the girls would like to join me on said bed and partake in the Stiles they are welcome to. If any boys would either, we all know I play both fields. Otherwise, I am going to go sleep and hug my special pillow, until my arms can no longer do so." Stiles stands up. "Derek, can you help me up?" Stiles asks. Derek does not say anything but he does move over to Stiles and gets an arm under him. "Goodnight then folks," Stiles says and focuses his eyes on the staircase leading to his destination.


	5. Chapter 5

"He's lying, obviously. It's interesting, really. Why would a group of Alphas bother carting around pale, skinny Stiles with them and torturing him? They want something. The question is what." Peter says walking past the couch to sit on the large lazy boy.

"It might be the truth. He could have been thinking about something else while talking. His heartbeat was all over the place and the drug he was on could have caused it too." Scott says.

"Oh, come on," Peter rolls his eyes. "How often am I wrong?"

"He's pack, has been longer than you have." Scott growls.

"I don't know, he didn't tell us how he got away. I know Stiles is smart but him being able to escape five alphas on his own..." Isaac says, eyes shifting around a bit nervously around the room, wishing that Erica was around to lighten the atmosphere or at least Boyd to help mediate this meeting like he usually does.

"Unless they let him go?" Lydia asks the room. She tilts her head and starts pacing.

"Why would they keep him that long just to let him go?" Isaac bites.

"I can only think of three reasons. One, they got what they wanted from him. Two, he did escape which means they will be back for him. Or three, they let him go in order to get what they want. Ugh, this would be so much easier if we knew what the Alpha's want. What does Stiles have that nobody else has? What makes him different from everybody else?"

"He's human and is connected to the supernatural?"

"So, does the Sheriff and Melissa and Chris and his entire family. That's not it." Lydia purses her lips, shaking her head. "He mentioned the nogitsune, maybe it could be about his connection to the Nemeton, I mean it did affect him a lot more than it did you or..." Lydia gestures at Scott.

"Allison," Scott finishes. Lydia clears her throat and looks away, pushing those dark thoughts away.

"That's the only thing I could think of, I mean, he was taken only days after...after everything."

"I love deductive reasoning as much as the next guy but at the end of the day this gets us nowhere. Stiles knows what they wanted from him. We need to make him tell us." Peter says.

"We are not going to make him do anything. If he doesn't want to tell us he probably has a good reason not to." Derek gives his first input in the entire night. Peter leans forward in his chair.

"A good reason? We are talking about the same person, right? The one who spent over a month with an evil 1,000-year-old spirit in his head before being kidnapped by this supposed Alpha pack. We don't have any grounds to believe he even knows or understands what a good reason is. You are going to risk all of our lives, just so we don't hurt his feelings?"

"I agree with Peter," Lydia stops her pacing.

"Ah, finally, I have an ally. Somebody who is able to see reason and conveniently one of the only ones in this room with any kind of fashion sense." Peter says, throwing his hands in the air. Lydia shoots him a glare.

"Not by a long shot. I still don't trust you, but, you aren't wrong." Lydia says grudgingly. She turns away from Peter, changing her target to Scott. "Scott, you need to talk to him."

"Me?" Scott says. "Isaac or Erica would be better."

"You are his best friend and our Alpha." Derek confirms.

"Exactly. I doubt he wants to be around another Alpha right now and besides, I haven't seen him for almost a year and we didn't exactly talk much before he disappeared." Scott says, doing his best to keep control, unable to stop his voice from going up another octave.

"None of us have! Yes, your girlfriend was killed by a monster wearing his face! Well we lost her too! You need to get over your issues and talk to him." Lydia says fiercely, staring him down. There is a tense moment of silence. Scott looks away, unable to answer and filled with shame.

"I will do it. I mean, we don't really know each other very well, but hey, we do have something in common, right?" Isaac says, making the situation even worse. He flinches and rushes his next words out. "I'll try. It might help to talk with somebody who he has less, uh, history with."

"...Okay." Lydia says quietly, letting out a deep breath she did not realize she was holding. "Let's do that. Thank you, Isaac."

"No problem," Isaac lies, already thinking about how he is going to start that conversation.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles screams. A blood curdling scream that wakes everybody in the house while raising the hair on their arms. Derek quickly moves from the roof to Stiles window sill, slipping in effortlessly. He looks over at Stiles' bed. Stiles is pushed in to the corner of the room, blankets and pillows everywhere but on the bed.

"Stiles," Derek says moving a step towards him. Stiles flails and screams again, mumbling something indecipherable. Derek tentatively takes another step before stopping. Stiles flinches and attempts to bury himself in to the walls. Stiles can sense him there even though his eyes are closed.

John opens the door and flicks on the light. Blood covers Stiles hands and is dripping down his arms. It's smeared on the walls behind him, on his face and his pajamas.

"Stiles, oh god," John moves forward. Derek puts out his arm, stopping him.

"Stay back," Derek's words are drowned out from another, louder scream. The second presence sending Stiles into an increased frenzy.

"Son, wake up," John raises his voice. Stiles starts scratching at his wrist. John passes Derek and approaches his son. Stiles stills, opening his eyes before launching himself at John. A fist manages to connect with John's jaw before Stiles is grabbed by Derek and thrown against the wall. Derek holds Stiles in place and looks him in the eyes.

"Let me go," Stiles growls in anger, eyes manic and unfocused. Stiles kicks at Derek, uselessly trying to break the hold Derek has on him. His eyes are open but he is not awake. Derek looks at Stiles helplessly before making a split decision. Stiles comes to as surprisingly warm lips leave his own.

"John, are you okay?" Derek asks, looking back but not letting up on his hold on Stiles.

"Fine, Stiles?" John asks looking over in concern.

"Let me go," Stiles says, the words scratching their way out of his throat. Derek appraises him for a few seconds before backing off slowly. Stiles goes still. He looks around the room and sees the mess of blood, blankets and bandages. He is no longer in the Red Room. This is his bedroom. The one he slept in for most of his life. The one with the Batman blanket his mom gave him on the last Christmas they spent together. This room was where he felt the most comfortable before everything changed. Now it is a room he hates. A room that will only serve to make him relive horrors both while conscience and unconscious.

"This is all your fault." Stiles says, eyes focused on the bloody Batman blanket lying haphazardly on the floor.

"...Son, what do you mean?" John asks quietly.

"You let them take me. You all did this to me." Stiles shows off the gory mess of his arms.

"No. That was the Alpha Pack, not us. We searched for you, tracked you. The entire pack did. Your dad that you just punched almost died from worry and had to spend almost a week in the hospital. Lydia wouldn't sleep for days unless somebody made her. Scott was out trying to find your scent at all hours. You are pack. You know what that means." Derek speaks out in anger.

"Does pack play house when a member is being cut up and beaten? Does pack have nice dinners while a member is screaming for help? It took me almost two months of being starved and chained to realize that nobody was coming. Two months. Do you realize how long a minute of feeling your flesh being torn apart or your shoulder disconnecting for the hundredth time feels like?" Stiles states, voice cold and sharp as a butcher's knife. "Get out."

"Your bleeding-" John starts.

"Get out," Stiles stares at them, unmoving. John and Derek reluctantly back out of the room. Stiles briskly moves forward and slams the door shut, nearly catching a stray foot. He backs away from the door as if it is poison. Derek just... Stiles shakes his head, stopping his thoughts from going down that road. This is good. This is better. The more he cares, the more it will hurt. It is fine. He does not care. If he did not care he would not...but why would he...Stiles swallows. Why were they pretending to not know where I was after...it was them? They gave me to them. It was their fault I was taken. They all know that-no, I need to stop. Theo will be back soon. Theo will make everything make sense. Until then, I should start preparing, Stiles thinks through the cobwebs that are his brain.

Stiles opens his closet. He pulls out a wooden bat and slaps the end against one hand. He rotates it once, looking at any nicks and dents in the wood. John got it for him years ago to help burn off some of his energy and ideally help with his ADHD. It was a nice thought but, baseball does not work with only one person. John was too busy being a Sheriff to be a father. Scott was more interested in lacrosse. Therefore, the only award this wooden bat could possibly win would be for the number one dust bunny collector. He was hoping for something with a bit more of an edge but it will have to do for now.


	7. Chapter 7

Scott, Derek, Isaac, and Boyd sit in the living room of Stiles house, a First-Aid kit lying on the coffee table unused. A knock on the front door causes them all to look up. Scott goes to the door. Theo looks up from his cellphone, sliding it in to the back pocket of his jeans.

"How is he?" Theo walks in. "I smell blood." A small frown graces his lips.

"He didn't sleep well." Isaac explains. Derek snorts. Theo raises an eyebrow.

"The blood? It smells fresh."

"Because it is. He scratched his arms and wrists up. He won't let anybody in. We are waiting until he passes out." Derek says.

"Let me try,"

"No offence, but it is no use. We have all tried. Melissa is on her way. We have been listening to his heart. He is still okay. It's fine." Derek explains, tense shoulders and white knuckled fists betraying his own words. Theo turns his head slightly and looks up. He searches out Stiles heartbeat and hears the slightly slow steady beat. He looks back down at the others and shrugs.

"Can't hurt," Theo says, before turning on his heels and heading upstairs. Theo goes up to Stiles bedroom and looks at the old bedroom door with amusement. The last time he saw this door was years before on the one playdate his parents planned with the Sheriff when they were both much younger. That was before he moved away, before he watched his sister die. Strange how the world works. Theo smirks and raps on the door twice with the back of his fist.

"Stiles? It's Theo, would you let me in?" Theo asks simply, knowing that all the wolves downstairs are listening. There is no reply but a few seconds later, Theo hears things being moved around before the door is opened just a crack. Stiles peaks through. Once he is confident that Theo is by himself, he opens the door further to let Theo in. Theo walks in and the door is quickly shut once again. Theo secretly wishes he had installed a camera downstairs so that he could see the looks on their faces right now.

Stiles throws his arms around Theo, smashing his lips against Theo's in a bruising, frantic kiss. Glass shatters as it hits the ground at Theo's feet. Theo pushes Stiles back and looks down at the glass with a frown before looking around the room. Stiles shuffles away, moving on to his mattress and grabbing hold of an old baseball bat. There is a screwdriver stuck in it near the end at an odd angle. Furniture is sideways. A desk is upside down. A chair is holding up a nightstand in front of the window. Clothes are strewn about along with awkward pre-teen style bedding. Looking back at Stiles, Theo sighs as he takes in his haggard appearance. Loose bandages soaked in blood cover both of Stiles wrists. The dried blood on Stiles skin starkly contrasts his paler than usual pallor.

"Stiles, why don't you come downstairs? We can help you. You need those cuts taken care of." Theo says slowly. He scans the room, eyes lighting up when he finds what he's looking for. He picks up a pen and a pad of paper. Stiles watches him as he starts writing.

"They said they didn't know where I was." Stiles says. Theo sighs and adds a few more words on to the paper, doing his best to ignore the fake smile of a middle-aged realtor looking up at him from the corner of the pad.

"Nobody knew. Stiles, why did you do this to your room? Why are you keeping everybody out?"

"It is not safe for them." Stiles says. Theo pauses, pen going still.

"Not safe for them?"

"Not safe for me?" Stiles hesitates. "Them? Both? It is not safe."

"You are safe. We are all werewolves. We can protect ourselves and you just fine." Theo says.

"If that was true, I would not have been taken and tortured." Stiles says sharply. Nice, Theo thinks and smiles. That has got to sting for the lucky eavesdroppers. Theo drops the pad on the mattress in front of Stiles. Stiles picks it up and scans through it. A dark look crosses his face and he clutches on to his bat even tighter. He finishes reading and puts it down with a curt nod in Theo's direction.

"Calm down, Stiles. We will not let that ever happen again. Let everybody make up for it okay? A good start is to come downstairs and let them help you." Theo says in feigned concern. Stiles nods. He stands, swaying slightly and still holding on to the bat. "Good, let go of the bat though, okay? Even if something does happen, it won't help much against fangs and claws." Stiles just strengthens his grip even more, He glares at his bedroom door as if the thing even existing was an insult.

Slowly, Stiles forces his own fingers off the bat and lets it drop. Theo is right. Stiles needs to start letting them make it all up to him. He needs to make them regret the decision they made to send him away. He will not be a blind fool who listens to them make up stories about how they did not know where he was taken. He will make them understand just how badly they screwed up.

"You're right, the bat won't be much help." Stiles agrees.


	8. Chapter 8

Theo supports most of Stiles weight due to how unsteady he is from the blood loss. He rushes him down the stairs. Boyd quickly moves to help with Stiles although it is unnecessary, being that they are all werewolves and all. They sit him down on the couch over a blanket that has been spread out to protect it. All four werewolves stand awkwardly, looking at the bloody mess of Stiles.

"Now what?" Isaac asks nervously looking over at Scott. Everybody else follows suit, including Stiles.

"Yeah, dude, what now?" Stiles asks darkly, words slightly slurred as he glares at Scott.

"I don't know, my mom is going to be here soon. You're okay now though?" he asks. Scott winces as he could almost hear the raised eyebrows. "I mean mentally? You are not going to..."

"Go crazy? Attack you? No guarantees on that, but right now, I think you are safe." Stiles drawls and rolls his eyes. "Geez, calm down, I am fine. It is just a few cuts. If I'm lucky, I will get a few more scars. Erica says scars are hot. Oh-Sorry, Boyd. Not that I plan on going there or anything but, is this whole development between you and Erica recent or is it just awkward because I'm around and have been bringing it up?"

"It's fine. We broke up a couple months ago and it's not awkward because of you, it's just, complicated."

"Oh. Okay, cool. I mean not cool-just, uh, yeah, you know," Stiles says. Nobody actually knows but Boyd nods anyways.

"Here, at least I could," Scott reaches out, looking a bit hopeful. Stiles presses back against the couch away from the offending hand.

"No. I am fine. I don't need it." Stiles deadpans.

"C'mon, it's fine, let me help. It must hurt."

"No." Stiles repeats himself and looks away from the crushed puppy look that crosses Scott's face.

"Scott, is-" Melissa's voice calls out loudly as the front door opens and she walks in. Lydia and Erica enter soon after. Melissa quickly scans the room with a determined look on her face. She is on a mission. "Okay, everybody out. Go somewhere that is not here. Isaac, you can stay. Please, go and grab a bucket with some warm water and a couple cloths."

"But mom-" Scott starts.

"Derek?" Melissa looks at the second oldest in the house. Derek gives a curt nod before grabbing Scott's upper arm and pushing forward. Scott stumbles before regaining his balance. The room empties until it is just Stiles and Melissa. Melissa walks over and sits back on the coffee table for the second time in two days, carefully dropping a bag on the ground. She takes a deep breath and lightly places her fingers against his forehead and brushes some of his hair out of the way.

"Hi Stiles, how are you feeling?" she asks. Stiles looks at her thoughtfully. She gently grabs his right arm and starts studying it.

"...Aren't you scared?" Stiles asks. She looks up at him, looking confused. "I played you. I tricked you. You were trying to help me and I made a fool of you. I even threatened you. I could do it again." Stiles explains. He knows that Theo would not like him asking her this but...Melissa mostly stays out of pack business. If anybody was going to not agree with getting rid of him besides his father than it would be her.

"I am scared." Melissa says. Stiles feels his heart drop. He did not even think his heart could drop any lower. Obviously, he was wrong. "I am scared but, I am not scared of you. I am scared for you." Now it is Stiles turn to look confused. "I know we don't talk about it, but I have always seen you like my own son. I could never replace your mother, I know that, but in the past, when you have called me mom accidently, I would be surprised, not because I am not your mother but rather because it felt normal, not like it might have if any one of Scott's other buddies had said it. You have been through a lot. Everybody has, but you especially. I don't want to see you in pain or injured. Besides, I know that you would never say those things about Scott's father and I, or try to hurt me. That was not you. Not a single bit." Melissa says. But it was me, Stiles thinks. It was his mouth saying those words. His glee at letting a secret out that threatened her but brought out a smile on his. He remembers everything that happened. Stiles looks away.

Melissa thanks Isaac as he puts down a large bucket of water on the ground. She mentally shakes her head at the oversized bucket and thinks one word, werewolves. She gets to work and with Isaac's help they clean up his arms. Stiles refuses the drugs Melissa attempts to give him. He is forced to take an IV with a blood infusion from a bag she took home with her from work. Once the stitches are done Mellissa leaves the room to go clean her supplies and herself. Isaac sits on the couch next to Stiles quietly.

"You are good," Stiles breaks the silence. "At stitches, I mean, no wonder Melissa picked you to stay." Isaac nods.

"Thanks. My dad made me learn, he never liked hospitals or clinics much." Isaac explains. Stiles nods. It makes sense. Isaac's dad probably would have been arrested a lot earlier if they did go to see any doctors on a regular basis. At least Isaac learned something good. If the clear majority of the people in his life were not werewolves or some other kind of supernatural being with advanced healing abilities, it is likely a skill he would have too. "Look, if you ever need to talk with somebody about anything, you could talk to me. Or not talk. It's up to you. I don't understand what happened to you but because of what happened with my dad, I might get it a bit better than the others. It doesn't really compare but...I just know how hard it is to not be able to just get over something. To not be normal even when everything is supposed to be okay again. I get it."

"Well you are right about one thing," Stiles replies, anger once again budding in his chest. "You don't understand." Isaac winces internally but nods. At least he tried. "...There is one thing though, do you blame your dad for what he did to you?"

"No, I don't. I know people expect me to but, he was trying to look out for me, in his own way. He was sick. He made bad choices but he was-is, human. Even if it was harsh, he was trying to teach me. Besides, it wasn't all bad." Isaac explains honestly. Stiles nods, anger disappearing. For this one thing he can understand what Isaac is saying. The punishments that the Alpha pack handed out were cruel, but they were necessary. He needed guidance and they gave it. It was not like...Stiles shivers as a chill crawls up his spine. Humans can be much worse than werewolves. No, they are worse. Werewolves have instincts. They kill only when it is necessary. Humans kill when it can be avoided, some even enjoy it. There is a ding and a vibrating noise. Isaac pulls out a beat-up iPhone from his pocket. He looks at the screen and visibly tenses, frowning at his phone.

"What is it?" Stiles asks.

"It's nothing. Mr. Argent just sent out a pack text. Some hunters are visiting for a few days and he's asked us to keep a low profile. Apparently, they do not have the same kind of Code that his family has." Isaac says and pockets the phone. Stiles nods and his brain starts racing.

"Did he say anything else? Why are they here?"

"I don't know," Isaac shrugs. "As long as we stay out of each other's way it's fine. Mr. Argent has already brought up the truce with us to the council and it was approved so they can't do anything to us. Not unless we break the rules first." Isaac looks over towards the kitchen as we hear something clatter against the ground. And at what cost did this alliance come? Stiles thinks to himself sarcastically. This works out nicely though. Stiles wants to go and pay these hunters a visit. Now, he just needs to figure out how to get rid of his twenty-four-hour werewolf watch. That, and maybe find his laptop if that is still around. It was not in his bedroom and he is really craving for some internet access. A screwed-up baseball bat is nothing compared to a laptop in Stiles hands. Stiles can almost feel a smile coming on at the idea of having his fingers on a keyboard. Almost. His fingers twitch. Time to get to it then.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles knocks on the Argents front door, a knife held securely in his right hand. He watched Chris leave along with a few other hunters but two stayed behind. Gerard and Otis. Stiles was able to get his hands on a laptop and find out about the visiting hunters. Otis is some hunter from another family in New York. He has been following Gerard around for the last few months after some disagreements with his own family. Gerard is Chris's father, but he does not follow the same code as his son. Stiles keeps the knife hidden as he meets the dark, guarded eyes of the older man. The older man raises his silver eyebrows speculatively.

"Chris is not here." the man says coolly, eyes scanning the area quickly before returning to look at Stiles.

"I know. I am here to see you. You came back to Beacon Hills last year for Allison's funeral. You attacked me and kept me hidden for months in the basement of that house."Stiles says. Gerard's eyes harden.

"You are no better than the wolves or any other abomination out there. It is because of you and that pack you hang out with that my grand-daughter got killed. I plan on changing that. I intended to show the council proof of what has being going on here through you. I never did get my chance because of that encounter with the Alpha Pack. I assumed you were a goner but it looks like monsters protect other monsters. Figures. I have no doubt you will finish what I set out to do though. You will show them everything that is wrong in this town."

"Who else was in on it?" Stiles ignores him, vibrating in anger. "Who would go down in that room with me and...it was not just you. Tell me."

"I do not waste my time on childish antics. Leave." Gerard says and starts to shut the door. Stiles ducks and barrels into the guys chest at an angle, pushing him against the wall. Stiles receives a solid kick in the stomach, forcing him to back off. He loses his breath and wheezes as he tries to get it back. He sees Gerard grab something from his back pocket and lift his arm. Catching Gerard by surprise Stiles slams against the door and there's a solid crack as the door slams the arm back against the wall. Gerard's fist collides with Stiles temple. Blindly, Stiles rushes forward with his knife, stopping as the knife meets its intended target.

Stiles' back hits the ground hard. The ground is moving and he flails a bit before placing the palms of his hands solidly on the ground below him, coming to a stop. Startled, he looks up at the ceiling in confusion.

"Oh fuck, this is bad. Gerard, I am going to call an ambulance." a gruff voice says. Stiles looks over and sees Otis bending over Gerard. Gerard is sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall, watching Stiles. Their eyes meet and Gerard smiles. Stiles snarls and gets to his feet. He runs at them but is stopped as solid arms wrap around his midsection.

"Tell me who was there. Tell me who, you bastard. I will kill them all." Stiles screams, trying to get away from the arms restraining him. He cannot stop here. He did not get any information. He did not get any revenge. Gerard is going to live. This was his first real chance. Theo will be angry. He was supposed to wait and not do anything until the Alphas arrived. It would have been fine if he succeeded, but he didn't.

The arms pull him back out of the house and in to the front yard. He is freed in front of a man and woman. Stiles turns on the one who was holding him. Chris looks back at him sternly, ready for a fight.

"Why did you stop me? I almost had him. I could have had answers. I could have gotten back at those who fucked with me." Stiles spits out.

"You already know who. You said so. Why attack a hunter who goes after werewolves like the ones who hurt you?"

"I killed your daughter. His granddaughter. Were you a part of it too? Did you join in on the fun of torturing me? Did it feel good hurting the person who took away your daughter's life?" Stiles asks, a well of grief opening as his anger starts to dissipate. The sound of an ambulance catches both Christ and Stiles attention.

"I don't know what you are talking about but I have never participated in torturing teenagers. Now, we need to go. Get in the car." Chris says, stone-faced. His voice let's it be known that this isn't a request. The woman walks over to the black SUV and opens the back door. Stiles listens to the ambulance quickly approaching and stiffly walks over.

"I don't trust you. This isn't over." Stiles says, getting in to the vehicle. The others join and Chris quickly pulls out of the driveway. They pass the ambulance less than a minute later. Chris ends up turning down a heavily forested road. After a tense, silent drive Chris stops and switches off the ignition. Stiles looks out the window to see Derek standing on the porch, arms crossed and looking pissed. Next to Derek is John, wearing his work uniform, looking extremely tired and disappointed.

Shit on a broomstick Stiles thinks. Shit. On. A. Broomstick.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles approaches the porch defiantly, Chris following close behind as the two other hunters remain in the SUV. He comes to a stop in front of the steps and stubbornly looks past Derek and his father to focus on the front door.

"What were you thinking?" Derek asks, Chris having briefed him on the drive over.

"Let's take this inside?" Chris asks, glancing back at his vehicle. John nods. Stiles follows them inside. They head in to the large dining room where pack meetings are officially held. Derek rebuilt his families old house and turned it in to a pack sanctuary. Everybody has their rooms upstairs. It looks identical to when Stiles last saw the place. Nobody sits down. Peter appears, leaning on a door frame, taking a bite out of an apple.

"Why do you think Gerard or I tortured you?" Chris asks, quickly getting down to business.

"Because he did. He wasn't happy that I killed Allison. He didn't like how she died and yet I was still walking around." Stiles replies.

"But you said you were kidnapped by the Alpha pack. How could Gerard have done anything you?"

"He is your relative so ask him yourself. I am tired. Coming back from the dead takes a lot out of you."

"Son, you went out with clear intent and stabbed a man. Being tired is not going to cut it." John says.

"Really? Than what will? I just said that he tortured me. If that is the worst he gets, then he is lucky. Besides, I stabbed him in a place that won't kill him." Unfortunately, Stiles thinks.

"That is not...you are not a murderer, Stiles." John looks Stiles in the eyes somberly. Stiles looks away.

"I'm tired." Stiles says. Just two more days, Stiles thinks.

"We aren't done here." John says sternly.

"I am."

"I will talk to my father. We are not close but I will do what I can." Chris says to John.

"Thank you," John nods. Chris turns around and leaves.

"10-32. 10-32. A possible 10-82 is in progress." Johns police radio crackles. John tenses and sighs. He lifts his hand up to the radio on his shoulder.

"10-4." he lifts his finger off the button. "Stiles, we will talk about this later." he turns and leaves, continuing his conversation with the woman on the radio.

"Don't want to say but...who am I kidding? I do want to say it. I." Peter takes another bite of his apple. "told. you. so." he finishes gleefully to Derek. Derek glares at Peter's back as he walks off to do whatever Peter likes to do when not watching mini episodes of reality TV. Stiles looks on warily and then decides it does not matter. He moves to follow and head upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

"Stiles," Derek's voice stops him. "Talk." he says, ever so eloquently.

"Fuck you Derek," Stiles replies sharply. In the next moment, Stiles back is pressed against the wall with Derek's body pressed against him, arm held against his chest. Stiles sneers.

"So, is this like a thing now? Or going to be a thing? I love being pushed in to walls and man-handled like the next guy but...but yeah, don't think I need a but here, just saying."

"No, just," Derek growls in frustration. "We used to talk."

"Ha! Talk? Or was it mostly me talking and the occasional smooch fest? Well, things change. Now, as much as I am interested in this turning in to some weird fifty shades of grey moment, I would rather not. Let me go. I have some beauty sleep to catch up on. This face doesn't keep up its natural pallor by itself."

"Why are you giving Scott the cold shoulder?" Derek asks, not giving an inch.

"Because maybe, if he gets iced enough, he will turn in to a snow globe. One that I can smash." Stiles says. "Shit, that came out differently in my head. Whatever. It has nothing to do with you anyways."

"He is your best friend. If you don't want to talk with me, at least talk with him."

"Was. He was my best friend." Stiles says. "Just like how we were...whatever we were, get it? Past tense. Not present. Now, let me go." Stiles pushes against Derek to no avail.

"Why?"

"Why what? Use your words Der-bear." Stiles says in irritation.

"Why don't you trust us? What changed?"

"What changed!? Are you serious? How about this? Take a few days, try thinking about what may have possibly changed in this last year and maybe something will sink in by then. I have no doubt it will and until then you will let me go. Maybe go and watch some TV if you could. Arrow is a pretty good show. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two. Now get off me." Stiles says. Derek loosens his grip uncertainly, Stiles take the moment of hesitation and shakes him off before walking out.

"I would say that went well," an apple comes flying at Derek. Derek catches it. "Don't you?" Peter says with a wink. Derek glares.


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles stands inside his pack house room, hand holding the door open. Theo and Derek stand beside each other in the hallway. Theo looks aloof, poker face, giving away nothing. Derek is clearly frustrated.

"Your dad called, we both think it is best you stay here for now." Derek says.

"So, you and my dad are in cahoots now? Wow, look at you go. First, it was Scott and now you, who's next? We all know I'm here because you guys don't trust me and this makes it easier for all of you to hold me prisoner and track everything I do."

"You are not a prisoner. This is for your own good."

"Right, because I stabbed some old guy who tortured me. Some would call that karma, kind of like the Karma of you shacking up with Kate and consequently helping her to burn down your house and kill your family. Karma. Besides you have done much worse. Actually, most of this 'pack' of yours and Scott's has, but somehow I do not remember them ever getting this treatment." Stiles says, wincing internally at his own words. Derek's mouth shuts, eyes becoming moist and face going pale. Stiles feels guilty but quickly buries it under his own pain and anger. The pack house was built with thick walls, taking in to consideration werewolf hearing, but the soundproofing only really works behind closed doors. Nobody knows about Kate other than Stiles. At least, that was the case.

"Let's talk," Stiles says looking over at Theo determinedly. Stiles reaches out and pulls Theo in to the room, slamming the door in Derek's face. Stiles locks the door, pushing Theo back up against it. He forcefully takes Theo's lips with his own. Their tongues tangle as he kisses back. Stiles hands hungrily slide underneath Theo's shirt, fanning over taught, well-defined muscles. He tugs at Theo's shirt, eyes hungry for the familiar sight underneath. Theo's firm grip on both of his wrists stop him. Stiles breaks the kiss. Panting, face already flushed, he looks up at Theo through hooded eyes.

"Kate and Derek?" Theo says angrily.

"Old story." Stiles says and leans in. The pressure increases on Stiles wrists, some stitches come loose underneath the bandages. Stiles stops.

"You said you told me everything about the pack." Theo says.

"I did. I just forgot about Kate. It is not important."

"You had almost a year to tell me, yet you forgot? Did you just conveniently remember this story now or were you hiding it on purpose?" Theo asks.

"I needed to keep something up my sleeve. I am only human." Stiles replies, tightening his hands in to fists. His wrists ache. Theo pushes Stiles. Stiles steps back in surprise until the backs of his knees run in to the ledge of the bed. He falls back with Theo on top of him. Theo smoothly moves Stiles arms above Stiles head, pinning him against the bed. He moves his hand up and applies pressure to Stiles wrist.

"You were protecting him." Theo says firmly.

"I was protecting myself. Now, are we going keep talking or are we going to burn off some excess energy? I know you want too just as much as I do." Stiles says heatedly. "Maybe even more?" Stiles adds with a lopsided smile. Theo leans down and roughly kisses Stiles, biting his bottom lip in the process. Theo slides his hand down from Stiles wrist to palm him through his jeans. Stiles gasps, involuntarily thrusting his hips up, looking for more friction. Heat courses through him, hotspots everywhere his skin is in contact with Theo. Theo grins against Stiles lips but the smile does not reach his eyes, only lust. Theo makes his way from Stiles lips to his neck, biting, kissing and sucking on his skin, no doubt leaving marks behind as evidence. He lightly nips at Stiles ear lobe before stopping. Theo's breath against Stiles skin sends heated shivers down his back.

"...We both know who really wants this. Too bad even these walls would not be enough. I want to hear you scream." Theo lets go and gets off Stiles. He walks over to the door. Hand on the door knob, he pauses and looks back at Stiles.

"Stiles," he says, with barely contained rage and lust. "Don't fuck up again." he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him. Stiles looks at the closed door, then down at his strained jeans. He lets his head fall back down with a sigh. The door suddenly is thrown open again. Stiles opens one eye lazily. Than two, which widen exponentially. Stiles quickly sits up, grabbing a pillow to hold to hide, not-so-inconspicuously, the evidence of his recent encounter. Lydia stands brazenly, hands on her hips, looking royally pissed off.

"Woah, Lydia, Stiles territory here." Stiles says in alarm.

"What did you do to Derek?" Lydia asks.

"Nothing, why? Was poor der-bear's feeling hurt?" Stiles spits out. "Well, that's too bad." Stiles says. Lydia glares. With a huff, she turns to close the door behind her before approaching Stiles once more.

"What. Did. You. Say." Lydia repeats.

"The truth. I simply mentioned the real reason he does not want to move on from the fire that killed his family. He was the reason his house was lit on fire. Allison's aunt, Kate, slept with Derek and used him. I think it was supposed to be a secret. Too late for that now." Stiles explains. Lydia pales. "What? Too much for you to hear? The princess of dead bodies doesn't know what to do? Do you ever? What can you actually do other than scream and find bodies after they have already been killed? Obviously, your prophecy radar thing is no good. If it was you, maybe you would have found me, considering that my heart did stop several times, but no. You helped nobody. One day you are going to be just as crazy as I was, maybe even worse, screaming at your own funeral, just like the banshee before you." Stiles says, eyes daring Lydia to argue back. She takes a shaky breath to calm herself.

"...I know what you are doing. You are pushing all of us away on purpose. I am not falling for it. You can continue what you are doing but none of us are going anywhere. We will be here for you, whether you like it or not. Now, I have some notes from last years classes for you to study. With any luck, you should be able to challenge some of them and still be able to graduate on time. Clean yourself up and come downstairs." Lydia orders and leaves the room with a huff. Stiles lets out a frustrated breath before falling back down on the bed with his eyes closed.


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles sits at the table scribbling in his notebook listlessly, eyes glazed over, textbooks lying haphazardly. Erica flips through a magazine on the couch, occasionally glancing over. Isaac is watching Netflix on a laptop, earbuds in. The door opens. Stiles flips over the page in the notebook and continues scribbling. He doesn't understand anything that Lydia told him to work on. At least it looks like he is doing something. Stiles doesn't look over as Theo sits in the chair next to him.

"Oh, you are doing it wrong," Theo says. Stiles looks down at the random scribbles in confusion. Theo takes the notebook and writes a few words down before passing it back. Written neatly underneath Stiles scribbles there are three words: They are here.

Stiles back straightens.

"Thank you." he says quietly to Theo. Theo nods and moves over to the couch, forcing Erica to give him some space. Stiles heart starts racing. He is out of time. He stays a bit longer. Tension builds until he can't handle it anymore. Stiles stands up. Erica and Isaac look over. "I am going for a walk; I need some air." Erica moves to put her magazine down. "Isaac, do you want to go with me?" Stiles ask. He knows they will not let him go alone and he does not want Erica to come, she is too noisy. Theo raises an eyebrow but does not say anything. Right, why didn't he ask Theo... too late now.

"Sure." Isaac pulls out the buds and gets up, placing the laptop on the coffee table. Stiles heads out the front door first, fidgeting. It is getting dark out. Isaac follows a few steps behind. Stiles leads them around the house towards the back, starting to head out in to the acres of forest. Stiles looks around nervously, pure energy coursing through him. Sweat is forming on his brow and his hands are shaking. He places them in his pockets and keeps walking. He flinches at a loud crow that caws right above as it fly's past.

"Stiles, are you okay?" Isaac asks, causing Stiles to jump. Stiles keeps walking.

"Fine, just...antsy, ADHD I guess, y'know, the norm..." Stiles replies, speeding up.

"Alright," Isaac says and slips out his cellphone. He presses on Erica's name.

_Isaac: 'Stiles is acting strange. Says it's just ADHD but is really jumpy/paranoid? :-/'_

Stiles walks up to the original Hale shed. He shakes at the door but it is locked.

"The key is in the rock," Isaac motions at one of the rocks on the ground, leaning against the shed wall. Stiles kneels and lifts the rock to find that the rock is plastic and has a compartment inside.

_Isaac: 'We are at the shed?'_

_Erica: '...'_

_Erica: 'bring him back to house? should I text scott's mom?'_

_Isaac: 'idk, maybe?'_

_Erica: 'i'll call derek, one sec'_

Stiles opens the shed and goes in. Isaac glances down at his cell, slides it in to his back pocket and follows Stiles inside. The shed is large despite it never really being used by anyone other than Derek. Stiles stops. Isaac nearly runs in to him. Stiles turns around, looking terrified but determined.

"Stiles-" Isaac looks down in surprise at a garden weeder plunged in to his stomach. He looks up in time to see a shovel coming straight at him. Stiles looks at the body crumpled on the ground. He hit him hard enough to kill a human but Isaac is not one. He probably only has a few minutes. Even less considering how close Erica is and the pack bond. They will sense that something is wrong.

Stiles grabs the red plastic cans filled with gas and starts pouring it all over the shed. The strong smell from the fumes instantly hitting his nose. Once that is done he scrambles around looking for a lighter. He finds some old matches instead. He walks over to the door and scratches one of the matches against the coarse grit on the side of the dirty worn out cardboard box. Nothing happens. He tries again, hands shaking. Nothing. He throws the dud on the ground in frustration.

It takes three tries before he finally sees a spark turn in to a small flame. He wastes no time as he throws the match in to the room. Flames burst to life from where the match land, hungry tendrils quickly grabbing out for more gasoline and oxygen. Stiles shuts the shed door and locks it. He throws the key as hard as he can. Then, he runs.

The sun is almost completely set. Shadows loom menacingly, growing larger and larger, threatening to overtake him. Stiles pants heavily, eyes scanning through the trees. The sky is still a bit light but the forest is shrouded in darkness, the trees blocking most of the light. Only small amounts just barely brightening up the surrounding. The light is practically teasing him.

Stiles foot catches on a large tree root. He falls forward, hands hitting the ground first. They can't handle the impact and he ends up rolling on the ground before his back hits a tree. Stiles scrambles up. He looks back and sees a rusted orange light and smoke standing out in the nearly black sky. A loud howl makes him turn to keep going but he stops.

A shadow moves in front of him. He freezes. A clawed hand curls against a tree. A woman comes out from behind. Long dark hair falling past her shoulders. Dark red eyes flash at him, almost seeming to glow. She prowls forward, bare, clawed feet against the forest ground allowing her to move without a single sound to give her away. Stiles swallows.

"Kali," Stiles falls to his knees and bows his head. Kali lifts Stiles chin to make him look up at her before letting go.

"Deucalion is unimpressed with your progress." Kali purrs, twisting a lock of hair with one of her clawed fingers. "We all are. We came expecting some fun entertainment but it's all very...underwhelming."

"I-I just need more time. Give me one more day, I will fix it." Stiles replies, feeling nauseous.

"Oh, don't worry little pet, I am just going to help speed things along, just like old times," she winks, kneeling in front of Stiles. She snakes a hand around Stiles neck.

"Please don't," Stiles whimpers, closing his eyes.

"Hmm, cute." She says, lightly scratching a circle in to the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "But don't let your little vacation here let you get cocky, if you try to fight, you know what will happen. Now, are you going to be good?"

"Yes." Stiles nods and holds his breath.

"Good. Still, let's make sure of it." she says. She quickly sinks her claws in to Stiles neck. He goes limp and his eyes roll back. When he comes to he looks at Kali.

"So, Stiles, what are you going to do now?" Kali asks, licking at the bloody nail polish coating her werewolf fingers. A confident smile creeps on to his face, eyes void of anything but anger, hate and loyalty.


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles walks back to the pack house, the sun already rising. He walks in to the front door to see Lydia and Peter. Lydia is staring at her cellphone, looking exhausted. Peter looks irritated.

"Good, he is back, now I can finally go to sleep," Peter lifts himself out of the large recliner.

"Stiles, where have you been?" Why did you-" her eyes widen, a gun pointed straight at her. Peter stills, eyes glowing, assessing. Stiles look over at Peter, daring him.

"Tell Scott to come here, alone. Or the school, the sheriff's station, and the hospital will go," Stiles puts his fists together and then spreads them out, not letting go of the gun. "ka-boom." Stiles says darkly. Lydia looks over at Peter.

"He is telling the truth," Peter says and nobody can tell if it is said in surprise or admiration. Lydia turns back on Stiles.

"Stiles, this is not you, you would never-"

"I would never hurt people. Just like I would never shove a sword in to my best friend's chest and twist. Like I would never kill people or stab somebody and lock that person in a building after setting it on fire." Stiles raises an eyebrow, feeling nothing but anger and irritation for the spoiled red-haired girl wasting his time. "Text him. I _will_ use this." Stiles says. She looks down at her phone and begins typing before putting it away.

"Done." She replies. Stiles nods, not moving. Only minutes later, Scott barrels through the door, panting and sweat dripping down his forehead. His eyes flash red when he sees the gun.

"Stiles," Scott starts. "What's going on? We are worried about you, bro." Stiles turns the gun on Scott.

"Bite me." Stiles says. Scott looks confused.

"We want to help, tell us what we can do," Scott continues. Stiles huffs in irritation. He moves the gun and shoots in Lydia's direction. Stiles glances over to see that Peter managed to pull her out of the way in time. Â  Pity, Stiles thinks than looks back at Scott.

" _Bite_ me." Stiles says, training the gun back on Scott. He lifts his left arm. Scott finally realizes what Stiles is getting at. He looks at Stiles in shock.

"You don't want to be a wolf." Scott replies. "You said so yourself."

"I changed my mind. Give me the bite or I will blow up those buildings. I seriously doubt the others have found all of the bombs yet." Stiles says

"Okay, I will give you the bite. If you tell me why you want it. It could kill you Stiles."

"Stop stalling," Stiles says.

"Tell us why you want it."

"Give it to me." Stiles snarls, raising his voice. He turns the gun on himself. "Is this a good enough reason?"

"Stiles, don't-" Lydia starts. Stiles presses his weight against the gun's trigger. A shot rings out. Stiles is slammed against the ground. The gun skids to a stop out of reach. Derek pants, lying over him. He stands and checks Stiles pulse.

"Is he okay?" Lydia asks, voice shaking. Derek nods, glancing at the new hole in the wall.

"Fine, just knocked out." Derek stands and turns on Scott. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"I didn't think he would do it," Scott replies, eyes glued on Stiles in fear.

"You saw his room after his episode. You know he tried to kill Gerard Argent and nearly succeeded. We all know he's hiding stuff. He got all these scars from somewhere. Do you really think he would not pull the trigger? Get over whatever issues you have between Stiles and you and step up to the plate.  If you can't be his best friend. Be the Alpha." Derek snarls, saying each word slowly in barely contained anger. Lydia's phone chimes. She looks down at it and sighs in relief.

"They couldn't get all the bombs but they did evacuate everybody and nobody was fatally injured." Lydia says. She quickly sends a text back to whoever messaged and slides it back in to her pocket. "What do we do with him?"

"Tie him up and lock him in a room." Peter drawls. "Obviously." He yawns, kicking himself off the wall, walking out of the room.

"We can't just..." Lydia runs her fingers through looking over at the unconscious Stiles on the floor. She clears her throat. "Derek, do you have any rope?"

"Yes, but I have something even better." Derek replies.

* * *

 

Stiles sits in a wooden chair, hands cuffed behind him and ankles tied to the chair legs. He's been sitting in the unclaimed pack room for long enough to make his bottom go numb. His father sits in front of him, elbows on his knees and hands clenched together in front of him.

"Stiles, please, just say something. Anything. Your mother wouldn't want to see you suffering like this. Let somebody help you." John says heavily, looking as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

"My mother...she doesn't see anything; she didn't want to see anything. That's why I pulled the plug. She asked me to and I didn't hesitate. I killed her. I watched her die."  Stiles says. They are the first words he's spoken since he woke up on the uncomfortable chair.

"Stiles, she was sick. That had nothing to do with you."

"She knew that her bills were getting too high. She knew that we would lose everything and that she was going to die anyways. She made the choice and asked me to help her. So, I did. I killed her. Â I killed Alisson. I killed the kid in the library. I killed a bunch of others but I can't even remember any of their names or if I even knew their names. I may not have claws, fangs, poison or any other supernatural ability but out of everybody here I have the most blood on my hands. I am the real monster."

"You have saved people's lives Stiles, not taken them. You didn't intend to kill anyone except for maybe Gerard, but he is still alive. You are confused. I don't know what happened to you this last year but you are, and you always will be, my son." John says hopefully, thinking he is finally getting somewhere.

"Says the one who let them take me. You didn't want me. You all sent me away and replaced me with Scott to make a new family with him and Melissa, admit it. You were happy that I was gone. Everybody was." Stiles says sharply, shutting down, done with the conversation. The door slams open making John jump a foot up in his seat and place a hand over his heart. Even Stiles flinches. Erica, Lydia, Derek, and Scott pile in to the room.

"What are you guys doing?" the Sherriff asks. Stiles looks over at them curiously. Lydia walks over clutching a blue notebook in her hands. She flips open the notebook in front of Stiles.

"Stiles is trying to protect us." She says. Stiles eyes widen as he recognizes his own writing in the pages in the notebook. Written out are instructions telling them all to run with information about where to find new ID's and passports as well as money. It orders the pack to stay away from him and that they need to forget him and run before he ends up killing somebody. Lydia flips the pages. More writing, telling them routes and people to go see. The word run written repeatedly. Then the last two pages have three words largely scrawled over them: THEY ARE HERE.

"What?" John asks. Lydia hands John the notebook.

"Erica thought of it actually, she noticed it was weird that Stiles was asking about a pretty easy question yet he had been working on his own for a while." Lydia explains.

"Who are they?"  Who are we supposed to be running from?" John asks.

"We don't know but we do know somebody else who might," Erica says and passes a small piece of crinkled paper to John.

"Theo?" John asks in surprise, eyes hardening. "Stiles, tell us who they are."

"I did not write that," Stiles spits out. He cannot deny that it looks like his writing but he doesn't remember doing it.

"Stiles, it is okay. We can protect ourselves. Tell us who they are."

"No. If you are smart you will listen to that note. I would not be worried about them. I would be worried about what I will do when I get free." Stiles says.

"If they are as dangerous as this notebook says, we need to know what we are dealing with. If he won't tell us," Erica looks over at Scott. "We need to try other options." Scott looks over at John who is scowling darkly at the papers lying on his lap.

"Sheriff, do you mind if I look inside his head?" Scott asks him slowly.

"Do it." John says after a moment. Scott nods and goes behind Stiles. He takes out his claws and positions them behind Stiles neck.

"Ready?" Scott asks Stiles, slightly nervous to be going through his friend's brain.

"Go to hell. Allison's already there." Stiles spits out. Scott no longer feels nervous as his claws tears in to tender flesh.


	14. Chapter 14

"Out with it, what is wrong with my son?" John asks heavily. Scott looks pale as he sits at the table with Derek, Lydia, Erica, and Melissa also in the room.

"It was a mess, I don't know what was real or not. I looked and his memory, it was scattered. Usually when I access somebodies mind, it is like a film at super speed. It is overwhelming so that's why I need to know what to look for beforehand but even if I don't know things are organized, kind of like on a timeline.  Instead I just got fragments of him kneeling in front of...Kali I think, stabbing Isaac, him lying in a room looking at something, screaming, him jumping off a building, breaking my neck and then things just..."

"He really was the one who attacked Isaac." Erica says.

"Yes, but he has never broken my neck. I don't know about the other things but that definitely has not happened."

"You said his memories were scattered and that you could not tell what was real and what wasn't?" Lydia thinks out loud. Scott nods. "What if that is because he himself is not sure? Maybe he cannot tell the difference between what he dreams up or imagines versus what is real?"

"That could happen if somebody has experienced severe trauma and Stiles would have fit the bill just from the Nogitsune without even getting in to anything that may have happened while he was missing." Melissa states.

"You are saying that my son is crazy." John says.

"No, John.  We are saying that he is confused and very ill.  We can help him.  We will help him."

"There was still the notebook and the note.  Clearly he is scared of whoever 'them' are.  What if his kidnappers are coming back for him?" Derek says.

"Why would they come back now?  If anything the people who took him would want to steer clear of wherever he still has something they want.  Even if that was the case they would want to wait until we all have our guards down.  Stiles has not been back long enough for that to happen." John says.

"We haven't scented any other wolves in town either." Scott says.

"Then we have to assume that this is all happening in Stiles head.  He is likely terrified of them coming and his paranoia is manifesting in to this." Mellissa says looking at the notebook.  The front door opens.  Boyd and Theo enter the room.

"How is he?" Lydia asks.

"He is stable.  He is healing a bit slow but still a bit too fast for a human. He was still asleep when we left him.  We just came for a change of clothes." Boyd says.

"Understood.  I will work on getting his discharged." Melissa says.

"Theo, explain this." John says grabbing the piece of paper on the notepad and pushing it down the table.  Theo looks at it and recognizes the irritating realtor.  Theo quells anger at the fact that Stiles kept the note.  Theo reads the note for himself as he thinks of how to play this out.  

"I wrote that when I was convincing Stiles to let us help him after he messed up his arms." Theo says, still scrambling.

"That does not explain what you wrote.  'Remember why you are here Stiles.  They will come for you.  You do not have much time.  Make them suffer.  Do not forget who saved you from who.'" John says sharply.

"He was confused.  We had a conversation after the Nogitsune incident.  He was not sure what he was doing.  He wanted to run away.  I was trying to get him to remember why he chose not to.  They stand for anything or anybody who tries to harm him or anybody he cares about.  The rest is about how he talked about how he would not let anybody get at his family or friends again and that is how he would recover from what he did.  I was just reminding him about his own convictions.  I hoped it would help focus him and it did." Theo says, holding his breath. 

"He never gets a break, does he?" John says.  Melissa rests a hand on his arm.  "Theo, I knew that it was probably harmless.  I'm sorry."

"It is okay. We all want Stiles to be okay and we all want to someone to blame."

* * *

Stiles comes to with what feels a lot like a bad hangover.  He is still tied to the chair in the pack house.  Lydia is lying on the bed, flipping through the pages of an excessively oversized book.

"Stop, you don't need to get any smarter." Stiles says.  She pauses mid-flip and looks up at Stiles in consideration.

"Of course I do.  Learning is how I help." she answers seriously.  "How are you feeling?"

"Like my brain was just warped." Stiles says with a glare.

"You are not brain dead though. Scott has improved.  We avoid any kind of scouring but we are confident enough that he won't make anybody brain dead if it becomes necessary."

"It was not necessary." Stiles says.  Lydia sighs and moves to sit up and move closer to Stiles.

"Yes, it was. I wish it wasn't.  Stiles, your brain is scattered.  You are confused and are sick. You need help.  I recommended an excellent doctor to John and Melissa.  She has helped me a lot."

"You see a shrink?"

"She is more than just a shrink.  She also helps to diagnose supernatural ailments but yes, I see a shrink.  I probably will for the rest of my life.  Banshees do not have a good track record for keeping their sanity." she says.

"I need the bite.  Make Scott give it to me."

"Why? You have never wanted the bite."

"I want it now." Stiles raises his voice a bit.

"You are not in a state of mind to know that." she says evenly.

"And you are in a state of mind to make decisions?  You see and hear things on a regular basis."

"Do you realize what you did yesterday?" her voice sharpens.  Stiles raises an eyebrow.  "You tried to kill Isaac."

"Tried?" Stiles asks.

"He survived because of Erica.  This should mean something to you.  Isaac is your friend.  You were the one who first realized what was going on with his father.  He lived with you and you created the case for the police that saved Isaac and made it so that Isaacs father could never hurt him again." Lydia says.  Stiles looks at her blankly as he processes.  He failed.  He needs to get out of this chair.  "Stiles, you held a gun at Scott and shot at me."

"I...this is all wrong.  I thought I was protecting you guys.  How did this happen?"

"That is what we are trying to help you with."

"Lydia, I am sorry.  I could never hurt you." Stiles thinks about sad things.  About how he felt when he realized his 'friends' did not care.  That he was kidnapped because of his so-called 'friends'. His eyes get moist. "I can't believe I did that.  I love you.  And Isaac...please, you need to let me go. I need to see him.  He needs to understand that I would never want to...Please."

"Stiles, we can not trust you as you are at the moment."

"Then get somebody else.  Watch me.  Please, I need to see him." Stiles says.  Lydia grabs her phone after a moment.  Then she gets up and starts undoing the rope.  Derek shows up, watching from the hall.

"Isaac will be coming home in a few hours.  If you try anything you get tied right back up." Stiles nod and moves his head down so that it looks like he is trying to hide tears when it reality he is hiding a smirk.  That was too easy.


End file.
